


a servant's joyous duty.

by prismatic_starstuff



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual love and romance? In this fic? It's more likely than you think, Nipple Play, Other, Public Sex, Reader is an elf and a guard in Mirkwood, Reader's Gender is Never Specified, Rimming, Will add tags as necessary in future chapters, facesitting, implied blow jobs, master/servant relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prismatic_starstuff/pseuds/prismatic_starstuff
Summary: A series of glimpses into the life of the reader, faithful servant and bedmate of the Elvenking himself.
Relationships: Thranduil/Reader
Kudos: 34





	1. the throne.

Your tongue and your lips work hard.

He presses down onto you, gracing you with his body.

There are eyes on you both, but neither of you care.

Deep moans ring out from the beautiful form atop you, but you feel no shame; for you it is an honour to be where you are, serving the Elvenking before his throne in full view of anyone who happens to be milling around, the two of you bare-naked and revelling in each other for all the Woodland Realm to see.

Thranduil’s thighs, firm and strong and supple, are warm against the sides of your head; though they aren’t quite as warm as his soft rear end, seated upon your face while you serve him with your tongue. He grinds his backside against your open and pliant mouth, his tight hole taking more of your slick tongue into its delicious heat, perfectly meeting the rhythm the two of you have set; your fingers grab onto the smooth unblemished skin of his hips, and you find yourself kneading your fingers in time with that rhythm, as though it is the only thing that exists to you in that moment.

Out slides your tongue from the tempting warmth of your king’s entrance, only for you to lay it flat against the tight ring of muscle and lavish it with long licks; and he moans louder for you, his head tipping back slowly, his beautiful crown still in place even as his hair tickles your forehead. You pucker your lips and suck, earning a gasp from the Elvenking, and you let your hands wander from his hips up his sides.

His hands grasp both of your own, his grip strong and unyielding just like your beloved king himself, and he guides you: slowly he slides your palms around to caress his abdomen, the muscle firm and gently trembling beneath your touch. His breathing comes shaky, and even the thought alone of how lovely his lips would look all pink and parted makes your heart pound harder still. He trails your hands further up his lithe form, and you eagerly caress his pale warm skin with reverence. Your fingertips brush against his nipples, perky and hard with arousal, and his breathing hitches so delightfully.

“Such a wonderful s- _servant_ you are,” Thranduil purrs, his silken tones only stuttering when you let your tongue breach his entrance once more, a pleasured sigh rewarding you as you swirl your tongue inside his tight heat. “So pliant... so obedient...”

You whine softly against your king’s rear, the already undeniable heat in your groin aching painfully and perfectly at his sinfully-spoken praises. Stroking your fingers against his hard and sensitive nipples, you grope at your Elvenking’s chest, alternating between lovingly squeezing his pectorals and using your fingertips to tease him.

His back arches, and his moaning sounds just that little bit shakier as you play with his pretty nipples; and the shift in his position allows you to slide your tongue deeper still into his entrance, the feel of his body around your tongue making you tremble with want and need. He raises himself up when you pull back, pushes down when you press in, and he’s undeniably _fucking_ himself on your tongue: and you love it, every second of it, because you know that the pleasure your royal and majestic lover feels is all because of you.

Well-toned muscles flex against your face and the side of your head as Thranduil works himself on your tongue, and you moan desperately, with no desire whatsoever to hide your appreciation. Every sound that falls from his lovely lips, and every sensation of his gorgeous body against you, and every twitch of his hole around your tongue; all of it inflames you further and further with need... You can feel how he tightens more often now; how his usually deep and smooth tones are laced with a needy whine, how his bounces on your tongue have quickened and become more sloppy, less perfect.

“Tha-- That’s... ngh...” His well-spoken grace fails him before he stills, sheathing your tongue deep and pressing his weight against your face; and you can’t help but nuzzle against his smooth cheeks, so grateful that of all his servants, he chose you for the night’s ‘activities.’ “That’s enough, my servant,” he tells you, taking a moment to catch his heavy and shaky breaths before he gracefully lifts himself up. Your eyes greedily watch the subtle jiggle of his cheeks as he sits up on his knees, and you find yourself deeply missing his hot tightness around your tongue...

Shifting lower to straddle your hips and turning so he fully faces you, Thranduil smirks down at you, the bright pink blush across the porcelain skin of his face and ears and the saliva moistening his lips doing nothing to take away from the sheer power that expression holds over you.

“You are doing beautifully, dear,” he assures you, causing a smile to break out across your face that he chuckles warmly in response to. “You make an excellent throne...”

One of his elegant hands softly cups your cheek, and you lean your face against it with all the eagerness of a starving Man taking to food for the first time in weeks.

“But of course...” The Elvenking elegantly rolls his hips, pressing his length against you just enough to tease you where you need it the most; and you gasp unabashedly, and his smirk widens. Leaning close to your lips - so close, almost enough to kiss you but so tantalisingly far - his silvery-blue gaze rakes over your face, and you tremble with desire.

“...I would not see your good work go unrewarded.”

Your eyes widen with pure excitement.

His hips press into you, sudden and hard and deep.

Lips clash roughly, and he takes you freely, regardless of who stays to watch.


	2. the arrangement.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Thranduil agree to be more than servant and royal.

Your duties - patrolling Mirkwood’s safe paths and ensuring that they remain safe - seem to fly by for you today. You take pride in your work, of course you do; and you enjoy it, as it’s a great honour to be able to protect your home every day...

...but today, your mind is warm and cloudy with thoughts of the _other_ honour that had been bestowed upon you just the night before.

Memories keep flashing through your mind: memories of having your face used as a throne for your beloved king, vivid enough to bring the heat to your cheeks despite the light chill in the air... Thoughts of feeling his silken flesh against your face, of tasting him on your tongue, of him taking you in full view of anyone who was there to see; all of it makes you tremble lightly, pleasantly, in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the cold.

Swallowing the saliva that has filled your mouth, you shake your head from side to side in hopes of clearing it, and you do your best to breathe deep and calm your racing heart as you continue on your way.

As much as you enjoy the memories, you know it is a foolish thing to think about them on the job...

...And besides, you’re very aware of the facts. Although he chose you to ‘entertain’ him once, there’s no saying it will happen again.

You remind yourself of this, and you forcibly ignore the disappointment that blooms in your chest at the thought...

* * *

Thranduil acknowledges your presence with a purr of your name so pretty that you almost forget your composure; but you manage to catch yourself, standing straight-backed and at attention as the Elvenking gracefully passes you by. Seating himself in front of you, those piercing eyes of his meet your own with such an intensity that you’re sure he could stare deep into your soul if he pleased.

“What have you to report?” he asks, his posture as elegant and royal as ever, his flowing and shimmering robes making him look rather demure as he holds his hands so daintily in his lap.

...Though after last night, you certainly know better than that.

Clearing your throat to bring yourself back to reality, you manage to get out your report, informing the king that the forest is clear as you clasp your hands tightly in front of yourself. Your gaze wanders down to your boots as you continue, letting him know that you didn’t catch any sign of any of those monstrous spiders anywhere on the safe paths, nor any other trouble for that matter.

“Excellent,” a barely noticeable smile graces his pale lips, and he nods slowly in your direction. “As always, your good works are flawless.”

Your eyes widen just a bit at those words, though you hope it isn’t noticeable. You can’t help but wonder: was he simply referring to your work as a guard, or was he referring to the... ‘work’ you had partaken in last night? Your heart begins to speed up once more...

“Was there anything else that you wished to speak with me about?” His head tilts just a little, those eyes of his blinking slowly, that smile of his informing you that there was quite definitely more than just your guard work on his mind.

Swallowing nervously, your hands press more tightly together, and you draw a deep breath.

As calmly as you can, you ask about the night before; and specifically, you ask him if he might want to do it again at some point. (...You try not to make it obvious that you’re really, really hoping he might.)

“My my,” Thranduil chuckles teasingly, raising his free hand in front of his mouth, “aren’t you a bold one to ask such a thing of your king...?”

He turns his head and raises his cup to his lips, taking a long sip, making you want to squirm with anticipation as you wait; and you get the distinct feeling that’s exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. Setting the now empty cup aside, the king turns back to you, his slick pink tongue lashing out to lick up a stray drop of red from his lips.

“I very much enjoyed your company the other night,” he continues smoothly, crossing one long leg over the other as he leans back a little on his palms. His robes shift enough for you to see that he’s wearing nothing beneath them, and you almost choke on your own breath with delighted surprise. “You were so obedient... so talented...”

Your eyes are unashamedly fixed on the smooth skin of Thranduil’s long legs, but you are quick to breathe out your thanks for his kind praises.

“Not at all,” he gives you a little smile as he shakes his head lightly, the subtle movement spilling his pale golden hair over his shoulders. Silvery-blue eyes trail from your own hungry eyes down your still-armoured form, and his head tilts slightly, as though in thought.

You want to ask what he’s thinking about, but for the moment, you’re more than happy to simply bask in the king’s attentions. Moving your hands from in front of you, you let them rest at your sides so that he can see you properly.

A satisfied hum rises from his slender throat, and that tongue casually licks at his upper lip as he slowly lets his legs spread, shamelessly giving you such a lovely view of his pretty cock. “Come here, my servant.”

You don’t need to be told twice; you step closer and you kneel down, settling yourself between the Elvenking’s legs and shifting as close to him as you possibly can. Your hands raise, about to rest on his thighs, when sudden fear of overstepping your boundaries makes you pause; but you soon feel his warm strong hands resting atop your own, gently leading them to lay exactly where you wanted them to. Glancing up, you give Thranduil a grateful smile, leaning your head down and--

“Ah ah,” he touches a finger to your lips before you can press them to his length, and you blink up at him in surprise, concerned in case you’ve done something wrong. He’s still smiling down at you though, and his other hand settles itself on your head, stroking softly. “Before that... I’ve a question to ask you. An offer, if you will. One which you are welcome to turn down, should you wish.”

Tilting your head a little, you frown curiously, absently resting your head on one of Thranduil’s supple thighs. The memory of how lovely those thighs had felt on either side of your face makes you shiver pleasantly...

“Given that you and I both seem to take pleasure in each other,” he goes on, long elegant fingers idly stroking the shell of one of your ears as he looks your kneeling form over, “I propose that the two of us spend time together intimately on a regular basis.” His attention turns away from your ears, and he meets your eyes once more. “Whenever I have need of you, you will come to me and serve me. And in return, whenever you have need of me, I will likewise tend to you as you require.”

Your jaw drops a little in surprise, and you know how wide your eyes must be. The heat floods to your cheeks, and you only just manage to speak, asking the king if he’s sure about this.

“Entirely,” he nods, the smile softening slightly as he regards you. “The one thing that I would ask of you, should you wish to do this...” His eyes trail downwards for a moment, the smile dropping along with his tones. “...is that you do _not_ fall in love with me.”

The request makes sense to you. After all, Thranduil had a wife once, as all the Realm knows; and as all elves in general know, it is practically unheard of for elves to love more than once in their lifetimes. He’s telling you for your own good, you realise, and it’s actually rather sweet; he doesn’t want you to feel something that he knows he will not reciprocate. He doesn’t want you to have hope where there is none.

Eagerly, you nod your agreement to his proposal.

Such a beautiful smile crosses the Elvenking’s lovely lips, and he gives a soft, playful chuckle. “Wonderful _,”_ he purrs, the hand on your ear slipping down to tenderly caress one of your hotly-flushed cheeks.

“Well then...”

Thranduil’s finger finally lifts from your lips, and he lightly settles both hands behind your head, ever so gently guiding your obedient self closer to his beautiful shaft.

Your mouth waters in anticipation, and you swallow, your fingers subconsciously squeezing at his thighs.

“...would you like to serve me, _seron nin?”_

Your breath hitches at the term, and you find your eyes widening once more.

 _Seron nin..._ a term that means ‘my friend’ just as easily as it means ‘my lover.’

How very fitting for the situation the two of you have found yourselves in...

Turning your eyes up, you flash him a cheeky grin, and you wrap a hand tightly around the thick base of the Elvenking’s length to bring the glistening tip to your eager mouth.


End file.
